


Offers

by Liliththestormgoddess



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Recruitment, probably AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliththestormgoddess/pseuds/Liliththestormgoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson offered a hand to Barton; Barton returned the favour by offering a hand to Romanoff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Offers

Everything that Coulson ever knows changes the day that the Director slaps his next assignment on his desk.

“He calls himself ‘Hawkeye’,” Fury says. “Working as a contract killer. His signature is a bow and arrow. He’s a nuisance and you are to get rid of him.”

Phil raises slightly surprised eyes. “He’s a teenager,” he says.

Fury raises his eyebrow. “He’s a teenage _nuisance_ ,” he says just as bluntly.

His brows furrowed, Phil glances through the file for more information. “He seems to be a talented sniper. What about bringing him in?”

“No. He’s young and cocky and dangerous.” Fury crosses his arms and stares down at his agent. “Make it fast and efficient, Coulson.” Then he turns and leaves the room.

When the Director is gone, Phil studies the file again. There is a picture attached, and to Phil, it isn’t the picture of a stone-cold killer. It is the picture of a lost boy who is expanding too much energy in the wrong outlet. And the eyes; Phil can’t seem to look away from the boy’s eyes. He doesn’t understand why, but something icy slides around in his stomach.

He’s never felt this way about an assassination before. So why now?

But he packs his bags and boards a plane to Hawkeye’s last known location, picking up his trail without any trouble.

Coulson follows the boy as he slips through the city, seemingly unnoticed. He’s good – Phil will admit that – but he’s not as good as he thinks he is. Phil follows him with relative ease and watches as he scopes out his next sniper’s perch.

His plan was to take the boy out before Hawkeye took out his own mark, but seeing as the mark is a drug lord, SHIELD will benefit from his death. So Coulson waits. There is a voice at the back of his mind that berates him for his pathetic excuse for waiting. He ignores it.

When Hawkeye takes the shot, Coulson makes his move. The struggle is short and anticlimactic. Hawkeye is strong and driven, but his moves are uncoordinated and juvenile. It takes Phil only a minute to send him sprawling, weapon less, into the corner of the roof.

But Phil makes the mistake of looking into the kid’s eyes. He doesn’t see fear, as he would expect any normal child to feel. He sees defiance and strength, and he sees _heart_. Phil sees his own self, lost inside a world of hate and darkness, looking for a way out. Looking, until Fury offered him a hand.

So, when Coulson finally corners Barton, he doesn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he puts his hand out and says, “How would you like to work for the good guys?”

Phil is only partially surprised when Barton takes it.

When he brings back Barton, alive and walking under his own power instead of cold and in a body bag, Fury is furious. He gives Phil hell and locks Barton up for a week.

But after all the examinations and tests have been run, Fury grudgingly releases Barton into Phil’s hands. “He’s your responsibility now, Coulson. Don’t screw this up.” With a menacing finger pointed at him for emphasis, Fury leaves.

Phil knows that nothing is going to be easy; but he knew what he was getting into when he opened up Clint’s file.

* * *

Everything that Barton ever knows changes the day Coulson slaps his next assignment on his desk.

“They call her the Black Widow,” his handler says, seating himself across from Barton and nodding to the file. “Trained to be a killer from a young age, worked for the KGB, then broke off and went out on her own. Right now she’s number one on our hit list.”

Barton flips through the extremely extensive file – she’s been quite busy – his face showing no emotion. His gaze strays on her face longer than he usually needs to memorize it. Not that he would ever be able to forget that face. She is quite beautiful with her flaming red hair and soft, full lips; even if her eyes do look completely devoid of life.

“She has quite the skill set,” he comments to Coulson. “Thought about bringing her in?”

Coulson gives an exasperated sigh. “No, Barton. She’s a trained killer and believe me, she wants nothing to do with us. In and out, Barton. In and out.”

Clint nods and snaps the file shut. He’s not going to think about it, because this is just another assignment. Feelings cloud his judgement, and he can’t allow that.

They get a lead that Romanoff is staying on the outskirts of Paris, so Barton boards a plane and sets up his safe house before heading out to track down his prey. It takes him the better part of a week to find her, because she is very good at staying hidden.

When he does find her and the place she’s staying at, he sets up his perch on the apartments across the street and waits for her. For six hours he lays, perfectly still, waiting for her to come home.

He isn’t disappointed. He spots her right away, walking briskly down the street. He subtly adjusts the rifle and peers through the scope to line up his shot. He puts the crosshairs between her eyes.

And he hesitates.

Something about her makes him stop, and it takes him long moments to figure it out. It’s the same feeling that has been curling in his gut since getting the assignment.

Her face is different than it was in the photograph. It seems softer, younger somehow. And the eyes – the eyes are not dead or unfeeling. They are something that Clint recognizes: she is a victim of circumstance.

He can’t help but think of how he was in her position not long ago. How Phil was in Barton’s position now, and he saw what Barton is seeing now. And Coulson took that chance on Barton.

Clint wants to give Romanoff that chance. He feels he owes that to her. And maybe he owes it to Coulson, too.

When Romanoff disappears inside her house, Barton makes his move. They fight for the better part of ten minutes, fighting tooth and nail. Romanoff is quick and agile and she has weapons stashed on every inch of her body. Barton is bigger and stronger, but she has been trained her whole life to fight against bigger men. But Barton can play dirty, and soon he has the upper hand, leaving Romanoff backed into a corner, completely without weapons.

She’s breathing hard and staring at him, but she doesn’t ask any questions. She doesn’t demand to know who he is; Barton figures she has too many enemies to worry about specifics. She doesn’t even beg for her life. She just watches as he points the gun at her, but does not pull the trigger.

Barton looks in her eyes, and he sees that pain again. He sees himself; lost in darkness and hate, almost hoping that one day someone would catch up with him and just end it all for him. He sees himself, until Phil held his hand out to him.

So, when Barton finally corners Romanoff, he doesn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he puts out his hand and says, “How would you like to work for the good guys?”

Barton is only partially surprised when Romanoff takes his hand, flips him over, and presses a knife to his throat.

Barton returns a week later with a complacent Romanoff trailing behind him. Coulson doesn’t comment on this turn of events, but Fury nearly blows his top. He has Romanoff locked up and gives Coulson and Barton a dressing-down and demands a complete report.

But when Fury turns his back on them in the middle of a tirade, Phil turns to Clint and smiles.

Two weeks and a few dozen examinations and assessments later, Fury hands Romanoff over to Coulson. “She’s your problem now, Coulson,” he growls, fixing both Coulson and Barton with a glare.

Phil knows that nothing is going to be easy; but he knew what he was getting into when he opened up Clint’s file.


End file.
